Elevator Flutters
by daniiellers
Summary: Reality always had a way of coming back around.
1. Prologue

A large crack of sinister thunder shook me out of my slumber. Well, I guess you could say it was more of a, 'sprawled out across the desk, drooling all over my work' kind of slumber. The storm raging outside was extremely inconvenient to my sleeping patterns these days. Lately I usually found myself dozing off while on the job.

The rain hadn't stopped falling for about four weeks now. Even when it wasn't pouring, the clouds hugged each other like they were playing Red Rover with the sun. I used to enjoy the rain. It had the most intriguing smell as it lingered on the ground when the sun finally came through the arms of the clouds. It had been a long time since I'd seen one of those days. Now, weeks slowly ran together, becoming an incoherent haze. Not that I cared much, my life wasn't all that exciting anymore. Boy, I'm sure I sound like your average negative Nancy. Tell you the truth; it wasn't too long ago that I was quite possibly the happiest girl on earth. But I won't bore you with my sad story, although I'm sure you're just itching to hear it.

Scratch that. You really shouldn't be interested at all.

I looked over at the clock. 11:45 p.m., I fell out for a good hour and a half. Not that I needed it. I slept in all day, waking up of course, for a piece of bread and my pencil. I stared at the half-shaded drawing in front of me. I was indifferent at the moment. It was definitely time for a cigarette. I reached for my half-empty box of Camel Menthol No. 9's, and swung my jacket on.

The apartment's ceiling was leaking again in the hallway. Of course, everyone is always too busy with their own exciting lives to notice the gigantic swimming pool forming on the twelfth floor. I tried to squish by without getting wet, but a few scattered rain drops managed to plop down on my head. I muttered under my breath and hit the button for the elevator. I hated waiting for this rickety old thing. Every time you stood there for it you could hear it struggle to make its way to the top.

Ding!

Once the doors opened, I was not surprised to have every single pair of eyes stair at me. That's the lovely thing about elevators, always awkward, even if you know the people in it. When you're inside, everyone acts like they are preoccupied on their phone (which, usually you don't get service in elevators), or they just stare up at the numbers, watching as we progress downward. I step in once everyone is out and sigh, thankfully, as the doors close. I get claustrophobic around too many people. Even when I'm alone, I have to hold my breath and close my eyes. I did this as I felt that familiar sinking feeling in my stomach. It's almost like butterflies trapped inside my chest. Like that feeling you get when you take a big chance on something, or when you get your first kiss, or even fall in love. For most, it's a pleasurable thing. For most, it's a feeling of satisfaction.

Once I finally got outside, I was relieved to feel the cold, crisp air hit my lungs. I pulled out my cheap green lighter and lit myself a cigarette. Once I inhaled the nicotine, a burning sensation washed over me. What a nasty habit, I should have quit a long time ago, although once mom found out I picked up smoking, I really couldn't stop. She was a little upset at first, more for poor old dad who couldn't accept the fact that his baby girl was willingly damaging her lungs. Then, one day, mom ran out of her Salem menthols and came into my room asking me for some of mine. After that, we made endless amounts of trips to the gas station to buy our cigarettes together, and then we would spend the whole day talking outside of our cozy little home. We smoked secretly, of course, far away from dad.

I haven't talked to mom in a while.

Once I took the last drag, I threw the tiny stub to the bottom of the steps. Satisfied with the distance I had reached, I smiled to myself and spun on my heel to head back for the door. Two seconds too late, I heard a familiar voice call out my name. It was barely audible but I caught it. I thought about ignoring it and continuing on inside, but I took my chances anyway and turned back.

Shouldn't have done that.

"Hey, I thought that was you." I heard him say. Actually, I really hadn't heard it because the rate of my heartbeat picked up within seconds of seeing his face. I thought it was pounding out of my chest to be completely honest. My voice threatened to make a noise I was too embarrassed to let it make, so I bit my tongue until I could taste a warm saltiness. My face instantly fell hot, and I couldn't tell if it was because I wanted to cry, or leap down the steps like a mad woman and push this man into open traffic.

I ruled the second one out, mainly because if I did jump down the stairs in a fit of rage, I'd hit an ice patch and kill myself in the process. No good.

"So…How have you been?" He continued the conversation. It was more of a one-sided convo, really, considering I was still too dumbstruck to breathe. I was screaming in my head, mentally killing myself over and over again. I guess visualizing my own series of brutal deaths was much easier than seeing the smallest ounce of pain written across his angelic face. Oh, all the different little things that I should have said to him. Every little word I should have used to verbally rip him apart filtered through my thoughts and rested on the tip of my swollen tongue.

But these words wouldn't come.

Slowly, very cautiously, I turned back around and reached for the handle of the door. Looking back one last time, I regrettably pushed myself inside and shut the door. Okay, it was more of a slam. Without hesitation or warning, my legs gave out like they were a pair of Twizzlers. I dropped to the floor in the lobby, probably looking like a lunatic, but I didn't care. I was still caught in the moment, or should I say more worried that the moment had passed me by. Right then and there, I should have let him have it, told him everything…How he hurt me, what he put me through, how many times I'd cried for him, everything he had turned me into.

But I didn't.

I never will, because that's not who I am.

I'm Dani Marie; too fragile for confrontation, and too spilled apart to put myself back together again.


	2. Unfortunate Events

So, going outside to smoke a cigarette could potentially become a big dilemma.

My apartment was extremely chilly. As I paced around in my open kitchen, my bones ached. It's probably what you get for staying up all hours of the night hunched over a small desk. I sighed and grabbed a hold of the counter top. Locking my bare feet in place, I twisted my back until I heard multiple pops escape from my short frame. That was a relief.

Mom always lectured me about cracking my joints and such. I was always pushing on my fingers, throwing my neck from side to side, or twisting my ankle around in circles. The usual.

"Quit it!" She would say, in her dull, angry tone. I'd laugh at her and tell her that it made my bones feel better. She'd reply with an "I don't care", or "Well don't do it around me", or "Why do you think my knuckles are so fat and ugly". She was always particularly anal about little things like that. She'd throw a fit if she saw the condition of my humble little apartment. I checked it out. Clothes were thrown over the back of the sofa. Empty glasses and bottles lingered around the sitting area by the television. My rug was scrunched up at one corner, probably from tripping over it countless times in the dark. White and gray fur clung to the couch and my black North Face, which usually served as a bed for Sky.

Where was that Dog…?

I shrugged, turning back to my thoughts. I didn't want to admit it, but I needed my mom. I needed her to be here with me more than anything in the world. I looked over towards my door. I could just picture her now, waltzing in, bright as day. Her petite frame would drop her heavy bags and hurdle the table to devour me in a hug. I'd hug her in return, and before I could get a greeting in, she'd be asking what I wanted her to make me for dinner. God, she was such an amazing cook. I remember cooking beside her, mostly just on the holidays. We would host for our family and friends, entertaining with our plentiful side dishes and follow-up meals.

I took in a deep breath, and let out a wavering sigh. Having her come here now would be selfish. I couldn't possibly ask her to drop everything just for me. That would be selfish, unneeded. She's having a hard time as it is. The last time I talked to her was right before…

I'm probably the last person she wishes to see. I know she loves me, but she wouldn't be too eager to jump in her car and pay me a visit, at least, not for a little while. I know who she wants, because I'd give anything to see him again, just like she would. I gave up wishing for that a long time ago.

Dreams really don't come true. Hell, I've woken up in cold sweats plenty of times; eyeing my room in excitement—no, panic. There really is no right word for it, but the feeling of disappointment afterward is enough to kill me over and over again…Yet, I'm still alive. I'm always still alive, still desperately clinging to those vague pictures that are too good to be true.

I finally managed to calm myself enough to sit down on one of my kitchen stools. I propped my elbows up on the cool marble countertop and held my face in my hands. My outgrown bangs, which usually were swept to the side, fell in front of my yellow-green eyes. The world would be a much prettier place if I could view it like this all the time, if my sight was sheltered from the disasters this so called life threw at me.

Why did he come? What purpose could he have possibly had? He wasn't exactly happy to see me—or maybe he just knew what he did and felt bad for it. No, he probably just pitied me. Either way, he wasn't there at the final buzzer. He wasn't there for the emotional break down like he always said he would be. Even in the beginning, he never really was. I was too naïve, too young to care. Though, if I had the chance to take it all back, I don't know if I could. That winter break would be engraved in my mind for the rest of my life.

My eyelids started to fall. I started to feel overwhelmed and clutched my chest. My eyes swelled with tears that eagerly threatened to spill over the brim. I curled my fingers up and balled my hands into tight fists.

Deep breaths…

Anxiety attacks weren't new to me. They were occurring more frequently now, due to all of the stress in my non-existent life. They sort of ran in the family. The next chance I got, I'd thank mom for passing that down to me…But not dad, not poor dad.

Wrapping my arms around myself for more warmth, I walked over to the window. I fell back on the sill and rested my head against one of my big fluffy pillows, nestling into a deep crevice. My breathing became even again as I stared out at the huge scene beyond my stuffy apartment.

Outside, the light drizzle turned into small flurries. The ground was already covered in snow, with a nice secretive slate of ice underneath it. A few remaining lights from the city cast their beams down to the white blanket on the ground. They served as spotlights to the tiny sparkles that danced around in the cottony drifts. The small twinkles seemed to have smiles of their own, as if nothing could ever put out their tiny glints of hope.

* * *

_"Don't move, stay right here!"_

_Yeah right, like I was going to high-tail it out of the car and run away from one of the most beautiful human beings I'd ever seen._

_I lifted my seat up in my best girlfriend's car and he climbed out of the back. He gave me one more reassuring look, and disappeared. Once he was gone, I instantly started freaking out._

_"I can't believe he kissed me…ME of all people. Plus he's a junior, a whole year younger than me. That's not too wrong, is it? He's such a player, but god almighty…Those lips", were some of the few, awkward thoughts racing through my boggled mind. I checked the rearview mirror and there was still no sign of him. What was he doing? He was taking far too long—he better not leave me, I've worked too hard for this moment!_

_"Danielle! Let's go!"_

_That wasn't him. That was Lauren's voice. Lauren was my best friend. Why wasn't she in her car with me? I got out and looked around. I spotted him—he was in the backseat of his best friend's car, Lauren in the front. He waved me over and I was not hesitant for once. I skipped to the car, my heart about to cave in. It felt as though this beating thing inside of me was about to fall through a black void, never to be found again._

_I hate it when I'm right._

* * *

My eyes tore open and I jumped up, startled. I had to quickly recollect my thoughts. What the hell was that? Obviously, it wasn't the same reoccurring dream I'd been having for the past few weeks…Not that it mattered, this dream wasn't any better. I brushed my fingers through my matted, sweaty hair.

The light sound of clinking rang through the room and soon a pair of massive paws was perched on the edge of the sill where I lay. I moved my hand down to my side and patted a spot next to my leg. Soon, the cushion I claimed for my own sank and my furry companion was beside me, head on my stomach. This was enough to make my mouth twitch at the side.

"There's my best man."

Sky, my lovable but dorky husky, yawned and let out a knowing bark. He made things somehow seem easier when they were at their worst. Your dog really is your best friend. He always knows when something is wrong, even if I'm just hunched over a toilet, having surpassed my tolerance level for the night.

At least I have him.

* * *

The next morning, I was woken up not only by the annoying pangs of thunder, but my buzzer as well. I stretched my limbs and shook violently. Sky hopped off the sill and ran to the door, wagging his tail. For being a lovable geek, he sure was smart.

I walked over to the com and pushed the button.

"Yeah?"

"Hurry up, it's pouring!"

I rolled my eyes and buzzed Lauren in. I loved her to death, but her griping wasn't the first thing I wanted to hear in the morning. Before I even had time to make myself a cup of hot coffee, she was knocking on the door. This set Sky off and he started barking uncontrollably, running through different rooms like a mad dog.

"Chill, Butt-skee." I laughed and walked to the door to let Lauren in. Once it was unlocked, she took the liberty of flying through the room herself.

"Whoa…What a mess…" She looked around the apartment with a look of pure disgust written on her freckled face. She averted her attention to me and looked me up and down.

I hated being studied. I started fidgeting.

"Danielle, you can't keep living like this. Your hair looks like a dirty dish rag, your clothes probably stink, and you've lost all the beautiful green color in your eyes!"

I put my hand on my hip and waited for her to continue. I knew she would.

"Your make up looks like it is days old! And is that rotting bread over there? Oh, yes, you forgot to seal the bag. Come on, I'm ashamed to call you my friend." She walked over to the couch and grabbed a shirt of mine, pinching it between her fingers and tossing it aside.

I stood there, thinking of something to say. I hadn't spoken to anyone in days, except for Sky, so finding the right choice of words became a battle in my head.

"Well, what are you waiting for, you idiot?! Go shower!" Lauren sat down on the couch and reached for the remote. She turned on the news and made herself comfortable, obviously trying to prove a point.

I let out an exasperated sigh, throwing my arms down in defeat. This was going to be a long day. I just wanted to go back to sleep, then I wouldn't have to deal with people ridiculing me. I didn't blame her though, she was right. She had won this little showdown and I had nothing left to do but trudge down to the bathroom.

The hot water actually felt nice. The shower head was so powerful it projected beads of water at my body until it almost hurt. I let the steaming shower hit my face, run through my hair, and envelope the rest of my skin. It felt like the bones in my body were coming back to life. It didn't hurt as much to move around anymore. The sweet aroma of my pomegranate soap filled my senses and washed over me—literally. I closed my eyes and for the first time in a while, I relaxed, without thinking.

Without warning, the door busted open and I heard some high-pitched yelling. I was so shocked that when I tried to reach for a towel, I slipped on the soap (oh, cliché) and missed the towel. In this frantic process, I accidentally grabbed the shower curtain instead, ripping it off every single ring connected to the rod. The plastic shade swallowed me whole and I landed sprawled out in the tub, limbs hanging everywhere.

When I finally regained my composure, I first saw Lauren's wide-eyed face. My eyes trailed along to her left, and there I saw an older, striking, pissed off woman.

"H-hi, Mom."


End file.
